


tale as old as time

by peachyteabuck



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Fallen Angel Reader, Gen, angst if you squint, gender nuetral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:00:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28097313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachyteabuck/pseuds/peachyteabuck
Summary: you and lucifer have some catching up to do
Relationships: Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) & Reader
Kudos: 6





	tale as old as time

“You know,” you say, pouring whiskey for the man that sits in front of you. “You always were one for the dramatics.”

Lucifer, donned in a black velvet suit accented with the occasional gold threading, just lets out a small chuckle as he sips at the hard liquor. “What is it those humans say about pots and kettles?”

You, sipping at your own drink (some fruity thing Amenadiel recommended the last time he visited that you’re now _obsessed_ with), crack a smile. “Are you just reluctant about drawing parallels between the two of us?”

Lucifer doesn’t reply, instead taking a small purple macron from the tiers of pastries you had your servants set out for the both of you. His brother (and the rest of his siblings, for that matter) have always been a sore subject, tender like the skin of a bruise, so you decide to change the subject.

“And how are the humans doing?” you ask, taking a small cucumber and whipped cream cheese finger sandwich from the tray above the one Lucifer just pulled from. “Anything new going on down there?”

He shrugs, swallowing as he avoids eye contact. “You know, they have wars. They fight them, people die in them, then someone declares themselves the winner after a while and life goes on as normal.”

“So, nothing’s really changed?”

Lucifer lets a small smile slip, finally meeting your eyes as he speaks. “No, it appears that way, doesn’t it?”

The both of you fall silent for a moment, eating and drinking and just sharing each other’s company without need for heedless chatter. It’s nice – _comforting_ , maybe – to sit with him, not bound by time or other commitments. Very few other beings truly understood the trials and tribulations of immortality, of being celestial and cast away by the highest power possible and forgotten (or worse, despised) by beings you had never and would never meet. Somehow, that shared experience was the thing that kept you two coming back to each other every few centuries, swapping stories and witty banter and never wanting to say goodbye so that neither of you had to return to everyday life. These conversations, often, were the only thing getting you through the space between his visits – even if you refused to admit it.

So, you allowed for the quiet to settle between you two like one slips their feet into a comfortable pair of shoes. Eating, drinking, requesting refills from the attractive staff you have waiting on you hand and foot.

You only break the silence when a slice of mini key lime pie reminds you of something you had intended of asking him. 

“I have to inquire, though…are they still wearing those _garish_ clothes they were back in the…what was it?” your face curls up with disgust at the mere thought of those fashions. “God the twentieth century? The seventies, or something?”

Lucifer lets out a hearty chuckle, shaking his head as he attempts to forget all those horrid shoulder pads and neoprene jumpsuits, while retaining the memory of many, _many_ excellent drug-fueled orgies. It’s a hard thing to balance, to say the least.

“It was the eighties,” he corrects. “And what a terrifying time it was. All that hairspray and make up – and on the men, too! Although, I have to admit, I do still enjoy a good synthesizer now and then.”

The conversation meanders to other horrid fashions (Uggs? Dresses and skirts without pockets? _Poisons as make up!?_ ) _,_ before eventually one of you brings up your lives back on Earth (his ruling of a place called Los Angeles, and your prowling of the streets looking for people to prey upon).

“I’ve taken up a job at the police department there, helping solve crimes and such,” his eyes light up as he speaks. “It’s been an excellent pastime as Maze has taken up the helm of Lux.”

It’s through this that you find your opening.

“And have you found anyone though this job of yours?” you ask him, taking a sip from your teacup. 

Lucifer sputters, face going pink as he (unsuccessfully) attempts to dodge the question. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” You roll your eyes as you repeat yourself. “Have you found any new companions in the last century?”

“Well,” he concedes after a few moments of heavy silence. A well-timed sip of his alcoholic beverage delays his reply even further. “Actually, I’ve met this really nice woman…”

You snort. “That’s a surprisingly honest answer. I didn’t really expect that from you.”

Lucifer doesn’t return with a quip, but instead a small shrug. You take his sincerity as a sign to cut the bullshit and ask what you’ve been waiting to ask since the rumors of this mysterious human had reached your ears.

“Does she make you happy?”

Lucifer takes another sip before he smiles – though not at you. He seems to smile at memories of the mysterious woman you’ve heard whispers about, at memories with her and about her. It’s sweet, even if it causes pangs of jealousy to jab themselves into your gut as you thought of your own loneliness.

“Yes,” he eventually concedes. “She does. Very much so, actually. More than anyone else I’ve ever met in my life.”

Now you smile, too. “Then go after her, and don’t let her go.”

Lucifer gives you a single nod before letting silence cover you both once again. “I won’t. You can be sure of it.”


End file.
